Tales from WannaBea Farm

Cluck cluck, cluck cluck cluck, Speckles was at the back door, wanting in. Mamma sat her coffee cup down, saying, “There she is, right on time, y’all go get on the bed while I let her in.”

The two neighbor ladies walked into the bedroom and lay down on their stomachs, heads propped on their hands and their feet at the head of the bed. Mamma opened the door, letting in “Speckles”, my little black and white speckled hen. With Mamma following, Speckles strutted across the kitchen and into the bedroom, where she flew up onto the chest of drawers located against the wall across from the foot of the bed, where the two ladies were waiting expectantly. Mamma lay down beside them while Speckles went to work scratching and preparing the green crocheted doily to her satisfaction. After some minutes, she had it arranged the way she liked it and settled down to do her business.

The three ladies on the bed watched the chicken as if they were watching a silent movie, occasionally whispering to each other. “How long does it take? Does she do this every day? What if you put another doily up there?”

“Not long”, Mamma answered, “and she gets upset if I use a different doily, she prefers the green one, probably because it’s bigger.”

“Puc, Puc”, Speckles murmured, commanding the ladies attention again, almost as if she knew that SHE was the main attraction. The ladies tensed, thinking the show was almost over, but Speckles just settled down again, watching the ladies as intently as they were watching her.

The ladies were getting bored, especially since every time they started to whisper something to one another Speckles would let out a disapproving cluck to them to cease their whispering.

And then, “CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK, PUC, PUC”, Speckles rose up from her elegant crocheted nest, spread her wings almost as if taking a bow, and still clucking, jumped to the floor. Mamma followed her to the door and let her out. Returning to the bedroom Mamma laughingly watched the women as they were exclaiming over the egg as if it was a miracle.

Back in the kitchen Mamma was pouring coffee into their cups as they laughed and chattered away about the chicken thinking that my parents’ bedroom was her own private hen house, when my dad came in from work.

“What’s all the excitement”? he asked, and the women all started talking at once, telling him of their afternoon.

Daddy just laughed and said, “Yeah, she puts on quite a show, and because of her I never know who I’ll find on my bed when I come home!”